An Original Belle by E. P. Roe

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"To satisfy you, I swear never to put on the Northern uniform orto enter the South with a hostile purpose."

She stepped forward and touched his forehead with her lips, as shesaid: "The compact is sealed. Your oath is registered on earth andin heaven. Your simple word as a man of honor will satisfy me asto one other request. I wish you never to speak to any one of thissolemn covenant between us."

"I'm not in the habit of gossiping over family affairs," he replied,haughtily.

"I know that, and also that your delicacy of feeling would keepyou from speaking of a matter so sacred to me. But I am older andmore experienced than you, and I shall feel safer if you promise.You would not gossip about it, of course. You might refer to itto some friend or to the woman who became your wife. I can foreseecomplications which might make it better that it should be utterlyunknown. You little know how I dream and plan for you, and I onlyask you never to speak of this interview and its character to aliving soul."

"Certainly, mother, I can promise this. I should feel it smallbusiness to babble about anything which you take so to heart. Thesevisions of empire occupy your mind and do no harm. I only hope youwill meet your disappointment philosophically. Good-by now tilllunch."

"Poor mamma!" thought the young man, as he started out for a walk;"she rails against Northern fanatics, forgetting tnat it is justpossible to be a little fanatical on the Southern side of the line."

As he strode along in the sunshine his oath weighed upon him nomore than if he had promised not to go out in his sail-boat thatday.

At last, after surmounting a rather steep hill, he threw himselfon the grass under the shade of a tree. "It's going to be awfullyslow and stupid here," he muttered, "and it will be a month ortwo before we can return. I hoped to be back in time to join theMontagues in climbing Mont Blanc, and here I am tied up betweenthese mole-hill mountains and city law-offices. How shall I everget through with the time?"

A pony-phaeton, containing two ladies, appeared at the foot ofthe hill and slowly approached. His eyes rested on it in languidindifference, but, as it drew nearer, the younger of the two ladiesfixed his attention. Her charming summer costume at first satisfiedhis taste, and, as her features became distinct, he was surprisedat their beauty, as he thought at first; but he soon felt thatanimation redeemed the face from mere prettiness. The young girlwas talking earnestly, but a sudden movement of the horse causedher to glance toward the road-side, and she encountered the darkeyes of a stranger. Her words ceased instantly. A slight frowncontracted her brow, and, touching her horse with her whip, shepassed on rapidly.

"By Jove! Strahan is right. If I have many such countrywomen inthe neighborhood, I ought to find amusement."

He rose and sauntered after the phaeton, and saw that it turned inat a pretty little cottage, embowered in vines and trees. Making amental note of the locality, he bent his steps in another direction,laughing as he thought: "From that one glance I am sure that thoseblue eyes will kindle more than one fellow before they are quenched.I wonder if Strahan knows her. Well, here, perhaps, is a chancefor a summer lark. If Strahan is enamored I'd like to cut him out,for by all the fiends of dulness I must find something to do."

Strahan had accepted an invitation to lunch at the Vosburghs' thatday, and arrived, hot and flushed, from his second morning's drill.

"Well!" he exclaimed, "I've seen the great Mogul."

"I believe I have also," replied Marian. "Has he not short andslightly curly hair, dark eyes, and an impudent stare?"

"I don't recognize the 'stare' exactly. Merwyn is polite enoughin his way, and confound his way! But the rest of your descriptiontallies. Where did you see him?"

She explained.

"That was he, accomplishing his usual day's work. O ye dogs of war!how I would like to have him in my squad one of these July days!Miss Marian, I'd wear your shoe-tie in my cap the rest of my life,if you would humble that fellow and make him feel that he neverspoke to a titled lady abroad who had not her equal in some Americangirl. It just enrages me to see a New-York man, no better born thanmyself, putting on such superior and indifferent airs. If he'd cometo me and say, 'Strahan, I'm a rebel, I'm going to fight and killyou if I can,' I'd shake hands with him as I did not to-day. I'dtreat him like a jolly, square fellow, until we came face to facein a fair fight, and then--the fortune of war. As it was, I feltlike taking him by the collar and shaking him out of his languidgrace. He told me to mind my own business so politely that Icouldn't take offence, although he gave scarcely any other reasonthan that he proposed to mind his. When I met his Southern motheron the piazza, she looked at me in my uniform at first as if I hadbeen a toad. They are rebels at heart, and yet they stand aloof andsneer at the North, from which they derive protection and revenue.I made his eyes flash once though," chuckled the young fellow inconclusion.

Marian laughed heartily as she said: "Mr. Strahan, if you fightas well as you talk, I foresee Southern reverses. You have no ideahow your indignation becomes you. 'As well-born,' did you say? Why,my good friend, you are worth a wilderness of such lackadaisicalfellows. Ciphers don't count unless they stand after a significantfigure; neither do such men, unless stronger men use them."

"Your arithmetic is at fault, Miss Marian. Ciphers do have thepower of pushing a significant figure way back to the right ofthe decimal point, and, as a practical fact, these elegant humanciphers usually stand before good men and true in society. I don'tbelieve it would be so with you, but few of us would stand a chancewith most girls should this rich American, with his foreign airsand graces, enter the lists against us."

In her sincerity and earnestness, she took his hand and said: "Ithank you for your tribute. You are right. Though this person hadthe wealth of the Indies, and every external grace, he could not bemy friend unless he were a MAN. I've talked with papa a good deal,and believe there are men in the Southern army just as honest andpatriotic as you are; but no cold-blooded, selfish betwixt-and-betweensshall ever take my hand."

"Make me a promise," cried Strahan, giving the hand he held a heartyand an approving shake.

"Well?"

"If opportunity offers, make this fellow bite the dust."

"We'll see about that. I may not think it worth the while, and Icertainly shall not compromise myself in the slightest degree."

"But if I bring him here you will be polite to him?"

"Just about as polite as he was to you, I imagine."

"Miss Marian, I wouldn't have any harm come to you for the wideworld. If--if anything should turn out amiss I'd shoot him, Icertainly would."

The girl's only answer was a merry peal of laughter.

CHAPTER XII.

"A VOW."

BENT, as was Strahan, upon his scheme of disturbing Merwyn's prideand indifference, he resolved to permit several days to pass beforerepeating his call. He also, as well as Marian, was unwillingto compromise himself beyond a certain point, and it was his hopethat he might receive a speedy visit. He was not disappointed, foron the ensuing day Merwyn sauntered up the Strahan avenue, and,learning that the young officer had gone to camp, followed himthither. The cold glance from the fair stranger in the phaeton dweltin his memory, and he was pleased to find that it formed sufficientincentive to action.

Strahan saw him coming with a grim smile, but greeted him withoff-hand cordiality. "Sorry, Merwyn," he said, "I can give you onlya few moments before I go on duty."

"You are not on duty evenings?"

"Yes, every other evening."

"How about to-night?"

"At your service."

"Are you acquainted with the people who reside at a cottage--" andhe described Marian's abode.

"Yes."

"Who are they?"

"Mr. Vosburgh has rented the place as a summer residence for hisfamily. His wife and daughter are there usually, and he comes whenhe can.

"And the daughter's name?"

"Miss Marian Vosburgh."

"Will you introduce me to her?"

"Certainly."

"I sha'n't be poaching on your grounds, shall I?"

"Miss Vosburgh honors me with her friendship,--nothing more."

"Is it so great an honor?"

"I esteem it as such."

"Who are they, anyway?"

"Well, as a family I regard them as my equals, and Miss Marian asmy superior."

"Oh come, Strahan, gossip about them a little."

The officer burst out laughing. "Well," he said, "for a man of yourphenomenal reticence you are asking a good many questions."

Merwyn colored slightly and blundered: "You know my motive, Strahan;one does not care to make acquaintances that are not quite--" andthen the expression of his host's eyes checked him.

"I assure you the Vosburghs are 'QUITE,'" Strahan said, coldly. "DidI not say they were my equals? You may esteem yourself fortunateif Miss Vosburgh ever permits you to feel yourself to be her equal."

"Why, how so?" a little irritably.

"Because if a man has brains and discernment the more he sees ofher the more will he be inclined to doubt his equality."

Merwyn smiled in a rather superior way, and, with a light laugh,said: "I understand, Strahan. A man in your plight ought to feelin that way; at least, it is natural that he should. Now see here,old fellow, I'll keep aloof if you say so."

"Why should you? You have seen few society queens abroad whoreceived so much and so varied homage as Miss Vosburgh. There arehalf a dozen fellows there, more or less, every evening, and youcan take your chances among them."

"Oh, she's a bit of a coquette, then?"

"You must discover for yourself what she is," said the young man,buckling on his sword. "She has my entire respect."

"You quite pique my curiosity. I'll drive in for you this evening."

At the hour appointed, Strahan, in civilian's dress, stepped intoMerwyn's carriage and was driven rapidly to the cottage. Throwingthe reins to a footman, the young fellow followed the officer with aconfidence not altogether well founded, as he soon learned. Manyguests were present, and Lane was among them. When Merwyn waspresented Marian was observed to bow merely and not give her hand,as was her custom when a friend of hers introduced a friend. Someof the residents in the vicinity exchanged significant smileswhen they saw that the fastidious and exclusive Willard Merwyn hadjoined their circle. Mrs. Vosburgh, who was helping to entertainthe guests, recognized nothing in his presence beyond a new socialtriumph for her daughter, and was very gracious. To her offices,as hostess, he found himself chiefly relegated for a time.

This suited him exactly, since it gave him a chance for observation;and certainly the little drawing-room, with its refined freedom,was a revelation to him. Conversation, repartee, and jest wereunrestrained. While Lane was as gay as any present, Merwyn wasmade to feel that he was no ordinary man, and it soon came out inthe natural flow of talk that he, too, was in the service. Merwynwas introduced also to a captain of the regular army, and, whateverbe might think of these people, he instinctively felt that theywould no more permit themselves to be patronized than would the sonsof noble houses abroad. Indeed, he was much too adroit to attemptanything of the kind, and, with well-bred ease, made himself athome among them in general conversation.

Meanwhile, he watched Marian with increasing curiosity. To him shewas a new and very interesting type. He had seen no such vivacityand freedom abroad, and his experience led him to misunderstandher. "She is of the genus American girl, middle class," he thought,"who, by her beauty and the unconventionality of her drawing-room,has become a quasi-belle. None of these men would think of marryingher, unless it is little Strahan, and he wouldn't five years hence.Yet she is piquant and fascinating after her style, a word and ajest for each and all, and spoken with a sort of good-comradeship,rather than with an if-you-please-sir air. I must admit, however,that there is nothing loud in tone, word, or manner. She is asdelicate and refined as her own beauty, and, although this ratherflorid mamma is present as chaperon, the scene and the actors arepeculiarly American. Well, I owe Strahan a good turn. I can amusemyself with this girl without scruple."

At last he found an opportunity to say, "We have met once before,I believe, Miss Vosburgh."

"Met? Where?"

"Where I was inclined to go to sleep, and you gave me such a charmingfrown that I awakened immediately and took a long ramble."

"I saw a person stretched at lazy length under the trees yesterday.You know the horror ladies have of intoxicated men on the road-side."

"Was that the impression I made? Thanks."

"The impression made was that we had better pass as quickly aspossible."

"You made a very different impression. Thanks to Strahan I am herethis evening in consequence, and am delighted that I came."

"'Delighted' is a strong word, Mr. Merwyn. Now that we are speakingof impressions, mine is that years have elapsed since you weregreatly delighted at anything."

"What gives you such an impression?"

"Women can never account for their intuitions."

"Women? Do not use such an elderly word in regard to one appearingas if just entering girlhood."

"O Mr. Merwyn! have you not learned abroad that girls of my ageare elderly indeed compared with men of yours?"

He bit his lip. "English girls are not so--"

"Fast?"

"I didn't say that. They certainly have not the vivacity andfascination that I am discovering in your drawing-room."

"Why, Mr. Merwyn! one would think you had come to America on a voyageof discovery, and were surprised at the first thing you saw."

"I think I could show you things abroad that would interest you."

"All Europe could not tempt me to go abroad at this time. In yourestimation I am not even a woman,--only a girl, and yet I have enoughgirlhood to wish to take my little part in the events of the day."

He colored, but asked, quietly, "What part are you taking?"

"Such questions," she replied, with a merry, half-mocking flash ofher eyes, "I answer by deeds. There are those who know;" and then,being addressed by Mr. Lane, she turned away, leaving him withconfused, but more decided sensations than he had known for a longtime.

His first impulse was to leave the house, but this course wouldonly subject him to ridicule on the part of those who remained.After a moment or two of reflection he remembered that she had notinvited him, and that she had said nothing essentially rude. He hadmerely chosen to occupy a position in regard to his country thatdiffered radically from hers, and she had done little more thandefine her position.

"She is a Northern, as mamma is a Southern fanatic, with thedifference that she is a young, effervescing creature, bubblingover with the excitement of the times," he thought. "That fellow inuniform, and the society of men like Strahan and Lane, haye turnedher head, and she has not seen enough of life to comprehend a manof the world. What do I care for her, or any here? Her briery talkshould only amuse me. When she learns more about who I am and whatI possess she will be inclined to imitate her discreet mamma andthink of the main chance; meanwhile I escape a summer's dulnessand ennui;" and so he philosophically continued his observationsand chatted with Mrs. Vosburgh and others until, with Strahan, hetook his departure, receiving from Marian a bow merely, while toStrahan she gave her hand cordially.

"You seem to be decidedly in Miss Vosburgh's good graces," saidMerwyn, as they drove away.

"I told you she was my friend."

"Is it very difficult to become her friend?"

"Well, that depends. You should not find it difficult, since youare so greatly my superior."

"Oh, come, Strahan."

"Pardon me, I forgot I was to express only my own thoughts, notyours."

"You don't know my thoughts or circumstances. Come now, let us begood comrades. I will begin by thanking you cordially for introducing meto a charming young girl. I am sure I put on no airs this evening."

"They would not have been politic, Merwyn, and, for the life ofme, I can see no reason for them."

"Very well. Therefore you didn't see any. How like old times weare! We were always together, yet always sparring a little."

"You must take us as we are in these times," said Strahan, with alight laugh, for he felt it would jeopardize his scheme, or hoperather, if he were too brusque with his companion. "You see it ishard for us to understand your cosmopolitan indifference. Americanfeeling just now is rather tense on both sides of the line, and ifyou will recognize the fact you will understand us better."

"I think I am already aware of the fact. If Miss Vosburgh were ofour sex you would soon have another recruit."

"I'd soon have a superior officer, you mean."

"I fancy you are rather under her thumb already."

"It's a difficult position to attain, I assure you."

"How so?"

"I have observed that, towards a good many, Miss Vosburgh is quiteyour equal in indifference."

"I like her all the better for that fact."

"So do I."

"How is it that you are so favored?"

"No doubt it seems strange to you. Mere caprice on her part,probably."

"You misunderstand me. I would like to learn your tactics."

"Jove! I'd like to teach you. Come down to-morrow and I'll giveyou a musket."

"You are incorrigible, Strahan. Do you mean that her good-will canbe won only at the point of the bayonet?"

"No one coached me. Surely you have not so neglected your educationabroad that you do not know how to win a lady's favor."

"You are a neutral, indeed."

"I wouldn't aid my own brother in a case of this kind."

"You are right; in matters of this kind it is every one for himself.You offered to show me, a stranger, some attention, you know."

"Yes, Merwyn, and I'll keep my word. I will give you just as goodcourtesy as I receive. The formalities have been complied with andyou are acquainted with Miss Vosburgh. You have exactly the samevantage that I had at the start, and you certainly cannot wish formore. If you wish for further introductions, count on me."

Merwyn parted from his plain-spoken companion, well content.Strahan's promise to return all the courtesy he received left avariable standard in Merwyn's hands that he could employ accordingto circumstances or inclination. He was satisfied that his neighbor,in accordance with a trait very common to young men, cherished forMiss Vosburgh a chivalric and sentimental regard at which he wouldsmile when he became older. Merwyn, however, had a certain senseof honor, and would not have attempted deliberately to supplant oneto whom he felt that he owed loyalty. His mind having been relievedof all scruples of this character, he looked forward complacentlyto the prospect of winning--what? He did not trouble himself to definethe kind of regard he hoped to inspire. The immediate purpose tokill time, that must intervene before he could return to England,was sufficient. There was promise of occupation, mild excitement,and an amusing triumph, in becoming the foremost figure in Marian'sdrawing-room.

There is scarcely need to dwell upon the events of a few subsequentweeks and the gradual changes that were taking place. Life withits small vicissitudes rarely results from deliberate action.Circumstances, from day to day, color and shape it; yet beneaththe rippling, changing surface a great tide may be rising. Strahanwas succeeding fairly well in his recruiting service, and, makingallowances for his previous history, was proving an efficientofficer. Marian was a loyal, steadfast friend, reprimanding withmirthful seriousness at times, and speaking earnest and encouragingwords at others. After all, the mercurial young fellow daily won herincreased respect and esteem. He had been promoted to a captaincy,and such was the response of the loyal North, during that drearysummer of disaster and confused counsels, that his company was nearlyfull, and he was daily expecting orders for departure. His drillground had become the occasional morning resort of his friends, andeach day gave evidence of improved soldierly bearing in his men.

Merwyn thus far had characteristically carried out his plans to"kill time." Thoroughly convinced of his comparative superiority,he had been good-naturedly tolerant of the slow recognition accordedto it by Marian. Yet he believed he was making progress, and thefact that her favor was hard to win was only the more incitement.If she had shown early and decided preference his occupation wouldhave been gone; for what could he have done in those initiatoryweeks of their acquaintance if her eyes and tones had said, "I amready to take you and your wealth"? The attitude she maintained,although little understood, awakened a kind of respect, while thebarriers she quietly interposed aroused a keener desire to surmountthem. By hauteur and reserve at times he had made those with whomhe associated feel that his position in regard to the civil conflictwas his own affair. Even Marian avoided the subject when talkingwith him, and her mother never thought of mentioning it. Indeed,that thrifty lady would have been rather too encouraging had nother daughter taken pains to check such a spirit. At the same timethe young girl made it emphatically understood that discussion ofthe events of the war should be just as free when he was presentas when he was absent.

Yet in a certain sense he was making progress, in that he awakenedanger on her part, rather than indifference. If she was a new typeto him so was he to her, and she found her thoughts reverting to himin hostile analysis of his motives and character. She had receivedtoo much sincere homage and devotion not to detect something cynicaland hollow in his earlier attentions. She had seen glances towardher mother, and had caught in his tones an estimate which, howevertrue, incensed her greatly. Her old traits began to assert themselves,and gradually her will accorded with Strahan's hope. If, withoutcompromising herself, she could humble this man, bringing him toher feet and dismissing him with a rather scornful refusal, such anexertion of power would give her much satisfaction. Yet her pride,as well as her principle, led her to determine that he should suewithout having received any misleading favor on her part.

Merwyn had never proposed to sue at all, except in the way ofconventional gallantry. For his own amusement he had resolved tobecome her most intimate and familiar friend, and then it wouldbe time to go abroad. If false hopes were raised it would not muchmatter; Strahan or some one else would console her. He admittedthat his progress was slow, and her reserve hard to combat. Shewould neither drive nor sail with him unless she formed one of aparty. Still in this respect he was on the same footing with herbest friends. One thing did trouble him, however; she had nevergiven him her hand, either in greeting or in parting.

At last he brought about an explanation that disturbed his equanimitynot a little. He had called in the morning, and she had chattedcharmingly with him on impersonal matters, pleasing him by herintelligent and gracefully spoken ideas on the topics broached.As a society girl she met him on this neutral ground without theslightest restraint or embarrassment. As he also talked well she hadno scruple in enjoying a pleasure unsought by herself, especiallyas it might lead to the punishment which she felt that he deserved.Smilingly she had assured herself, when he was announced, "If he'sa rebel at heart, as I've been told, I've met the enemy beforeeither Mr. Lane or Mr. Strahan."

When Merwyn rose to take his leave he held out his hand and said:"I shall be absent two or three days. In saying good-by won't youshake hands?"

She laughingly put her hands behind her back and said, "I can't."

"Will not, you mean?"

"No, I cannot. I've made a vow to give my hand only to my ownfriends and those of my country."

"Do you look upon me as an enemy?"

"Oh, no, indeed."

"Then not as a friend?"

"Why, certainly not, Mr. Merwyn. You know that you are not myfriend. What does the word mean?"

"Well," said he, flushing, "what does it mean?"

"Nothing more to me than to any other sincere person. One usesdownright sincerity with a friend, and would rather harm himselfthan that friend."

"Why is not this my attitude towards you?"

"You, naturally, should know better than I."

"Indeed, Miss Vosburgh, you little know the admiration you haveexcited," he said, gallantly.

An inscrutable smile was her only response.

"That, however, has become like the air you breathe, no doubt."

"Not at all. I prize admiration. What woman does not? But thereare as many kinds of admiration as there are donors."

"Am I to infer that mine is of a valueless nature?"

"Ask yourself, Mr. Merwyn, just what it is worth."

"It is greater than I have ever bestowed upon any one else," hesaid, hastily; for this tilt was disturbing his self-possession.

Again she smiled, and her thought was, "Except yourself."

He, thinking her smile incredulous, resumed: "You doubt this?"

"I cannot help thinking that you are mistaken."

"How can I assure you that I am not?"

"I do not know. Why is it essential that I should be so assured?"

He felt that he was being worsted, and feared that she had detectedthe absence of unselfish good-will and honest purpose toward her. Hewas angry with himself and her because of the dilemma in which hewas placed. Yet what could he say to the serene, smiling girl beforehim, whose unflinching blue eyes looked into his with a keennessof insight that troubled him? His one thought now was to achievea retreat in which he could maintain the semblance of dignity andgood breeding.

With a light and deferential laugh he said: "I am taught, unmistakably,Miss Vosburgh, that my regard, whatever it may be, is of littleconsequence to you, and that it would be folly for me to try toprove a thing that would not interest you if demonstrated. I feel,however, that one question is due to us both,--Is my society adisagreeable intrusion?"

"If it had been, Mr. Merwyn, you would have been aware of the factbefore this. I have enjoyed your conversation this morning."

"I hope, then, that in the future I can make a more favorableimpression, and that in time you will give me your hand."

Her blue eyes never left his face as he spoke, and they grew darkwith a meaning that perplexed and troubled him. She merely bowedgravely and turned away.

Never had his complacency been so disturbed. He walked homeward withsteps that grew more and more rapid, keeping pace with his swift,perturbed thoughts. As he approached his residence he yielded toan impulse; leaped a wall, and struck out for the mountains.

CHAPTER XIII.

A SIEGE BEGUN.

"EITHER she is seeking to enhance her value, or else she is not thegirl I imagined her to be at all," was Willard Merwyn's conclusionas he sat on a crag high upon the mountain's side. "Whicheversupposition is true, I might as well admit at once that she is themost fascinating woman I ever met. She IS a woman, as she claims tobe. I've seen too many mere girls not to detect their transparentdeceits and motives at once. I don't understand Marian Vosburgh;I only half believe in her, but I intend to learn whether there isa girl in her station who would unhesitatingly decline the wealthand position that I can offer. Not that I have decided to offerthese as yet, by any means, for I am in a position to marry wealthand rank abroad; but this girl piques my curiosity, stirs my blood,and is giving wings to time. At this rate the hour of our departuremay come before I am ready for it. I was mistaken in one respectthe first evening I met her. Lane, as well as Strahan and others,would marry her if they could. She might make her choice from almostany of those who seek her society, and she is not the pretty littleBohemian that I imagined. Either none of them has ever touched herheart, or else she knows her value and vantage, and she means tomake the most of them. If she knew the wealth and position I couldgive her immediately, would not these certainties bring a differentexpression into her eyes? I am not an ogre, that she should shrinkfrom me as the only incumbrance."

Could he have seen the girl's passion after he left her he wouldhave understood her dark look at their parting. Hastily seekingher own room she locked the door to hide the tears of anger andhumiliation that would come.

"Well," she cried, "I AM punished for trifling with others. Hereis a man who seeks me in my home for no other purpose than his ownamusement and the gratification of his curiosity. He could not denyit when brought squarely to the issue. He could not look me in theeyes and say that he was my honest friend. He would flirt with me,if he could, to beguile his burdensome leisure; but when I definedwhat some are to me, and more would be, if permitted, he found nobetter refuge than gallantry and evasion. What can he mean? whatcan he hope except to see me in his power, and ready to accept anyterms he may choose to offer? O Arthur Strahan! your wish now iswholly mine. May I have the chance of rejecting this man as I neverdismissed one before!"

It must not be supposed that Willard's frequent visits to theVosburgh cottage had escaped Mrs. Merwyn's vigilant solicitude, buther son spoke of them in such a way that she obtained the correctimpression that he was only amusing himself. Her chief hope wasthat her son would remain free until the South had obtained thepower it sought. Then an alliance with one of the leading familiesin the Confederacy would accomplish as much as might have resultedfrom active service during the struggle. She had not hesitated toexpress this hope to him.

He had smiled, and said: "One of the leading theories of the day isthe survival of the fittest. I am content to limit my theory to asurvival. If I am alive and well when your great Southern empire takesthe lead among nations there will be a chance for the fulfilmentof your dream. If I have disappeared beneath Southern mud therewon't be any chance. In my opinion, however, I should have tenfoldgreater power with our Southern friends if I introduced to them anEnglish heiress."

His mother had sighed and thought: "It is strange that thiscalculating boy should be my son. His father was self-controlledand resolute, but he never manifested such cold-blooded thought ofself, first and always."

She did not remember that the one lesson taught him from hisvery cradle had been that of self-pleasing. She had carried outher imperious will where it had clashed with his, and had weaklycompensated him by indulgence in the trifles that make up a child'slife. SHE had never been controlled or made to yield to others inthoughtful consideration of their rights and feelings, and did notknow how to instil the lesson; therefore--so inconsistent is humannature--when she saw him developing her own traits, she was troubledbecause his ambitions differed from her own. Had his hopes anddesires coincided with hers he would have been a model youth inher eyes, although never entertaining a thought beyond personal andfamily advantage. Apparently there was a wider distinction betweenthem, for she was capable of suffering and sacrifice for the South.The possibilities of his nature were as yet unrevealed.

His course and spirit, however, set her at rest in regard to hisvisits to Marian Vosburgh, and she felt that there was scarcelythe slightest danger that he would compromise himself by seriousattentions to the daughter of an obscure American official.

Willard returned from his brief absence, and was surprised at hiseager anticipation of another interview with Marian. He calledthe morning after his arrival, and learning that she had just goneto witness a drill of Strahan's company, he followed, and arrivedalmost as soon as she did at the ground set apart for militaryevolutions.

He was greeted by Marian in her old manner, and by Strahan inhis off-hand way. The young officer was at her side, and a numberof ladies and gentlemen were present as spectators. Merwyn took acamp-stool, sat a little apart, and nonchalantly lighted a cigar.

Suddenly there was a loud commotion in the guard-house, accompaniedby oaths and the sound of a struggle. Then a wild figure, armed witha knife, rushed toward Strahan, followed by a sergeant and two orthree privates. At a glance it was seen to be the form of a tall,powerful soldier, half-crazed with liquor.

"--you!" exclaimed the man; "you ordered me to be tied up. I'lllarn you that we ain't down in Virginny yet!" and there was recklessmurder in his bloodshot eyes.

Although at that moment unarmed, Strahan, without a second's hesitation,sprung at the man's throat and sought to catch his uplifted hand,but could not reach it. The probabilities are that the youngofficer's military career would have been ended in another second,had not Merwyn, without removing his cigar from his mouth, caughtthe uplifted arm and held it as in a vise.

"Stand back, Strahan," he said, quietly; but the young fellow wouldnot loosen his hold. Therefore Merwyn, with his left hand upon thecollar of the soldier, jerked him a yard away, and tripped him upso that he fell upon his face. Twisting the fellow's hands acrosshis back, Merwyn said to the sergeant, "Now tie him at your leisure."

This was done almost instantly, and the foul mouth was also stoppedby a gag.

Merwyn returned to his camp-stool, and coolly removed the cigarfrom his mouth as he glanced towards Marian. Although white andagitated, she was speaking eager, complimentary, and at the sametime soothing words to Strahan, who, in accordance with his excitablenature, was in a violent passion. She did not once glance towardsthe man who had probably saved her friend's life, but Strahan cameand shook hands with him cordially, saying: "It was handsomely andbravely done, Merwyn. I appreciate the service. You ought to be anofficer, for you could make a good one,--a better one than I am,for you are as cool as a cucumber."

Others, also, would have congratulated Merwyn had not his mannerrepelled them, and in a few moments the drill began. Long beforeit was over Marian rose and went towards her phaeton. In a momentMerwyn was by her side.

"You are not very well, Miss Vosburgh," he said. "Let me drive youhome."

She bowed her acquiescence, and he saw that she was pale and alittle faint; but by a visible effort she soon rallied, and talkedon indifferent subjects.

At last she said, abruptly: "I am learning what war means. It wouldseem that there is almost as much danger in enforcing disciplineon such horrible men as in facing the enemy."

"Of course," said Merwyn, carelessly. "That is part of the risk."

"Well," she continued, emphatically, "I never saw a braver act thanthat of Mr. Strahan. He was unarmed."

"I was also!" was the somewhat bitter reply, "and you did not eventhank me by a look for saving your friend from a bad wound to saythe least."

"How could he help risking everything? The infuriated beast wascoming towards you as well as him. Could he have run away? You arenot just to me, or at least you are very partial"

"One can scarcely help being partial towards one's friends. Iagree with you, however; Mr. Strahan could not have taken any othercourse. Could you, with a friend in such peril?"

"Certainly not, with any one in such peril. Let us say no moreabout the trifle."

She was silent a moment, and then said, impetuously: "You shallnot misunderstand me. I don't know whether I am unjust or not. I doknow that I was angered, and cannot help it. You may as well knowmy thoughts. Why should Mr. Strahan and others expose themselvesto such risks and hardships while you look idly on, when you soeasily prove yourself able to take a man's part in the struggle?You may think, if you do not say it, that it is no affair of mine;but with my father, whom I love better than life, ready at anymoment to give his life for a cause, I cannot patiently see utterindifference to that cause in one who seeks my society."

"I think your feelings are very natural, Miss Vosburgh, nor doI resent your censure. You are surrounded by influences that leadyou to think as you do. You can scarcely judge for me, however.Be fair and just. I yield to you fully--I may add, patiently--theright to think, feel, and act as you think best. Grant equal rightsto me."

"Oh, certainly," she said, a little coldly; "each one must choosehis own course for life."

"That must ever be true," he replied, "and it is well to rememberthat it is for life. The present condition of affairs is temporary.It is the hour of excited impulses rather than of cool judgment.Ambitious men on both sides are furthering their own purposes atthe cost of others."

"Is that your idea of the war, Mr. Merwyn?" she asked, lookingsearchingly into his face.

"It is indeed, and time will prove me right, you will discover."

"Since this is your view, I can scarcely wonder at your course,"she said, so quietly that he misunderstood her, and felt that shehalf conceded its reasonableness. Then she changed the subject,nor did she revert to it in his society.

As August drew to its close, Marian's circle shared the feverishsolicitude felt in General Pope's Virginia campaign. Throughoutthe North there was a loyal response to the appeal for men, andStrahan's company was nearly full. He expected at any hour theorders which would unite the regiment at Washington.

One morning Mr. Lane came to say good-by. It was an impressivehour which he spent with Marian when bidding her perhaps a finalfarewell. She was pale, and her attempts at mirthfulness were forcedand feeble. When he rose to take his leave she suddenly coveredher face with her hand, and burst into tears.

"Marian!" he exclaimed, eagerly, for the deep affection in hisheart would assert itself at times, and now her emotion seemed towarrant hope.

"Wait," she faltered. "Do not go just yet."

He took her unresisting hand and kissed it, while she stifled hersobs.

"Miss Marian," he began, "you know how wholly I am yours--"

"Please do not misunderstand me," she interrupted. "I scarcelyknow how I could feel differently if I were parting with my twinbrother. You have been such a true, generous friend! Oh, I am allunstrung. Papa has been sent for from Washington, and we don't knowwhen he'll return or what service may be required of him. I onlyknow that he is like you, and will take any risk that duty seemsto demand. I have so learned to lean upon you and trust you that ifanything happened--well, I felt that I could go to you as a brother.You are too generous to blame me that I cannot feel in any otherway. See, I am frank with you. Why should I not be when the futureis so uncertain? Is it a little thing that I should think of youfirst and feel that I shall miss you most when I am so distraughtwith anxiety?"

"No, Miss Marian. To me it is a sacred thing. I want you to knowthat you have a brother's hand and heart at your disposal."

"I believe you. Come," she added, rising and dashing away hertears, "I must be brave, as you are. Promise me that you will takeno risks beyond those required by duty, and that you will write tome."

"Marian," he said, in a low, deep voice, "I shall ever try to dowhat, in your heart, you would wish. You must also promise that ifyou are ever in trouble you will let me know."

"I promise."

He again kissed her hand, like a knight of the olden time.

At the last turn of the road from which he was visible she wavedher handkerchief, then sought her room and burst into a passion oftears.

"Oh," she sobbed, "as I now feel I could not refuse him anything.I may never see him again, and he has been so kind and generous!"

The poor girl was indeed morbid from excitement and anxiety. Herpale face began to give evidence of the strain which the timesimposed on her in common with all those whose hearts had much atstake in the conflict.

In vain her mother remonstrated with her, and told her that she was"meeting trouble half-way." Once the sagacious lady had venturedto suggest that much uncertainty might be taken out of the futureby giving more encouragement to Mr. Merwyn. "I am told that he isalmost a millionnaire in his own right," she said.

"What is he in his own heart and soul?" had been the girl's indignantanswer. "Don't speak to me in that way again, mamma."

Meanwhile Merwyn was a close observer of all that was taking place,and was coming to what he regarded as an heroic resolution. Exceptas circumstances evoked an outburst of passion, he yielded to habit,and coolly kept his eye on the main chances of his life, and thesemeant what he craved most.

Two influences had been at work upon his mind during the summer.One resulted from his independent possession of large property. Hehad readily comprehended the hints thrown out by his lawyer that,if he remained in New York, the times gave opportunity for arapid increase in his property, and the thought of achieving largewealth for himself, as his father had done before him, was growingin attractiveness. His indolent nature began to respond to vitalAmerican life, and he asked himself whether fortune-making in hisown land did not promise more than fortune-seeking among Englishheiresses; moreover, he saw that his mother's devotion to the Southincreased daily, and that feeling at the North was running higherand becoming more and more sharply defined. As a business man inNew York his property would be safe beyond a doubt, but if he wereabsent and affiliating with those known to be hostile to the North,dangerous complications might arise.

Almost unconsciously to himself at first the second influence wasgaining daily in power. As he became convinced that Marian wasnot an ordinary girl, ready for a summer flirtation with a wealthystranger, he began to give her more serious thought, to study hercharacter, and acknowledge to himself her superiority. With everyinterview the spell of her fascination grew stronger, until at lasthe reached the conclusion which he regarded as magnanimous indeed.Waiving all questions of rank and wealth on his part he would becomea downright suitor to this fair countrywoman. It did not occur tohim that he had arrived at his benign mood by asking himself thequestion, "Why should I not please myself?" and by the oft-recurringthought: "If I marry rank and wealth abroad the lady may eventuallyremind me of her condescension. If I win great wealth here and liftthis girl to my position she will ever be devoted and subservientand I be my own master. I prefer to marry a girl that pleases mein her own personality, one who has brains as well as beauty. Whenthese military enthusiasts have disappeared below the Southernhorizon, and time hangs more heavily on her hands, she will findleisure and thought for me. What is more, the very uncertaintiesof her position, with the advice of her prudent mamma, will inclineher to the ample provision for the future which I can furnish."

Thus did Willard Merwyn misunderstand the girl he sought, so strongare inherited and perverted traits and lifelong mental habits.He knew how easily, with his birth and wealth, he could arrange amatch abroad with the high contracting powers. Mrs. Vosburgh hadimpressed him as the chief potentate of her family, and not at allaverse to his purpose. He had seen Mr. Vosburgh but once, and thequiet, reticent man had appeared to be a second-rate power. He hadalso learned that the property of the family was chiefly vested inthe wife. Of course, if Mr. Vosburgh had been in the city, Merwynwould have addressed him first, but he was absent and the time ofhis return unknown.

The son knew his mother would be furious, but he had alreadydiscounted that opposition. He regarded this Southern-born lady asa very unsafe guide in these troublous times. Indeed, he cherisheda practical kind of loyalty to her and his sisters.

"Only as I keep my head level," he said to himself, "are they safe.Mamma would identify herself with the South to-day if she could,and with a woman's lack of foresight be helpless on the morrow.Let her dream her dreams and nurse her prejudices. I am my father'sson, and the responsible head of the family; and I part with nosolid advantage until I receive a better one. I shall establishmamma and the girls comfortably in England, and then return to acity where I can soon double my wealth and live a life independentof every one."

This prospect grew to be so attractive that he indulged, like Mr.Lanniere, in King Cophetua's mood, and felt that one American girlwas about to become distinguished indeed.

Watching his opportunity he called upon Mrs. Vosburgh while Marianwas out of the way, formally asking her, in her husband's absence,for permission to pay his addresses; and he made known his financialresources and prospects with not a little complacent detail.

Mrs. Vosburgh was dignified and gracious, enlarged on her daughter'sworth, hinted that she might be a little difficult to win byreason of the attentions she had received and her peculiar views,yet left, finally, the impression that so flattering proposalscould not be slighted.

Merwyn went home with a sigh of relief. He would no longer approachMarian with doubtful and ill-defined intentions, which he believedchiefly accounted for the clever girl's coldness towards him.

CHAPTER XIV.

OMINOUS.

SUBORDINATE only to her father and two chief friends, in Marian'sthoughts, was her enemy, for as such she now regarded Willard Merwyn.She had felt his attentions to be humiliating from the first. Theyhad presented her former life, in which her own amusement and pleasurehad been her chief thought, in another and a very disagreeablelight. These facts alone would have been sufficient to awaken avindictive feeling, for she was no saint. In addition, she bitterlyresented his indifference to a cause made so dear by her father'sdevotion and her friends' brave self-sacrifice. Whatever hismotive might be, she felt that he was cold-blooded, cowardly, ordisloyal, and such courtesy as she showed him was due to little elsethan the hope of inflicting upon him some degree of humiliation.She had seen too many manifestations of honest interest and ardentlove to credit him with any such emotion, and she had no scruplesin wounding his pride to the utmost.

Meanwhile events in the bloody drama of the war were culminating.The Union officers were thought to have neither the wisdom to fightat the right time nor the discretion to retreat when fighting wasworse than useless. In consequence thousands of brave men werebelieved by many to have died in vain once more on the ill-fatedfield of Bull Run.

One morning, the last of August, Strahan galloped to the Vosburghcottage and said to Marian, who met him at the door: "Orders havecome. I have but a few minutes in which to say good-by. Thingshave gone wrong in Virginia, and every available man is wanted inWashington."

His flushed face was almost as fair as her own, and gave him a boyishaspect in spite of his military dress, but unhesitating resolutionand courage beamed from his eyes.

"Oh, that I were a man!" Marian cried, "and you would have company.All those who are most to me will soon be perilling their lives."

"Guess who has decided to go with me almost at the last moment."

"Mr. Blauvelt?"

"Yes; I told him that he was too high-toned to carry a musket,but he said he would rather go as a private than as an officer. Hewishes no responsibility, he says, and, beyond mere routine duty,intends to give all his time and thoughts to art. I am satisfiedthat I have you to thank for this recruit."

"Indeed, I have never asked him to take part in the war."

"No need of your asking any one in set terms. A man would have tobe either a coward, or else a rebel at heart, like Merwyn, to resistyour influence. Indeed, I think it is all the stronger becauseyou do not use it openly and carelessly. Every one who comes hereknows that your heart is in the cause, and that you would have beenalmost a veteran by this time were you of our sex. Others, besidesBlauvelt, obtained the impulse in your presence which decided them.Indeed, your drawing-room has been greatly thinned, and it almostlooks as if few would be left to haunt it except Merwyn."

"I do not think he will haunt it much longer, and I should prefersolitude to his society."

"Well," laughed Strahan, "I think you will have a chance to putone rebel to rout before I do. I don't blame you, remembering yourfeeling, but Merwyn probably saved my life, and I gave him myhand in a final truce. Friends we cannot be while he maintains hispresent cold reserve. As you told me, he said he would have doneas much for any one, and his manner since has chilled any gratefulregard on my part. Yet I am under deep obligations, and hereafterwill never do or say anything to his injury."

"Don't trouble yourself about Mr. Merwyn, Arthur. I have my ownpersonal score to settle with him. He has made a good foil foryou and my other friends, and I have learned to appreciate you themore. YOU have won my entire esteem and respect, and have taught mehow quickly a noble, self-sacrificing purpose can develop manhood.O Arthur, Heaven grant that we may all meet again! How proud Ishall then be of my veteran friends! and of you most of all. Youare triumphing over yourself, and you have won the respect of everyone in this community."

"If I ever become anything, or do anything, just enter half thecredit in your little note-book," he said, flushing with pleasure.

"I shall not need a note-book to keep in mind anything that relatesto you. Your courage has made me a braver, truer girl. Arthur,please, you won't get reckless in camp? I want to think of youalways as I think of you now. When time hangs heavy on your hands,would it give you any satisfaction to write to me?"

"Indeed it will," cried the young officer. "Let me make a suggestion.I will keep a rough journal of what occurs and of the scenes wepass through, and Blauvelt will illustrate it. How should you likethat? It will do us both good, and will be the next best thing torunning in of an evening as we have done here."

Marian was more than pleased with the idea. When at last Strahansaid farewell, he went away with every manly impulse strengthened,and his heart warmed by the evidences of her genuine regard.

In the afternoon Blauvelt called, and, with Marian and her mother,drove to the station to take part in an ovation to Captain Strahanand his company. The artist had affairs to arrange in the citybefore enlisting, and proposed to enter the service at Washington.

The young officer bore up bravely, but when he left his mother andsisters in tears, his face was stern with effort. Marian observed,however, that his last glance from the platform of the cars restedupon herself. She returned home depressed and nervously excited,and there found additional cause for solicitude in a letter fromher father informing her of the great disaster to Union arms whichpoor generalship had invited. This, as she then felt, would havebeen bad enough, but in a few tender, closing words, he told her thatthey might not hear from him in some time, as he had been orderedon a service that required secrecy and involved some danger. Mrs.Vosburgh was profuse in her lamentations and protests against herhusband's course, but Marian went to her room and sobbed untilalmost exhausted.

Her nature, however, was too strong, positive, and unchastened tofind relief in tears, or to submit resignedly. Her heart was fullof bitterness and revolt, and her partisanship was becoming almostas intense as that of Mrs. Merwyn.

The afternoon closed with a dismal rain-storm, which added to herdepression, while relieving her from the fear of callers. "O dear!"she exclaimed, as she rose from the mere form of supper, "I haveboth head-ache and heart-ache. I am going to try to get throughthe rest of this dismal day in sleep."

"Marian, do, at least, sit an hour or two with me. Some one maycome and divert your thoughts."

"No one can divert me to-night. It seems as if an age had passedsince we came here in June."

"Your father knows how alone we are in the world, with no nearrelatives to call upon. I think he owes his first duty to us."

"The men of the North, who are right, should be as ready tosacrifice everything as the men of the South, who are wrong; and soalso should Northern women. I am proud of the fact that my fatheris employed and trusted by his government. The wrong rests withthose who caused the war."

"Every man can't go and should not go. The business of the countrymust be carried on just the same, and rich business men areas important as soldiers. I only wish that, in our loneliness andwith the future so full of uncertainty, you would give sensibleencouragement to one abundantly able to give you wealth and thehighest position."

"Mr. Merwyn?"

"Yes, Mr. Merwyn," continued her mother, with an emphasis somewhatirritable. "He is not an old, worn-out millionnaire, like Mr.Lanniere. He is young, exceedingly handsome, so high-born that heis received as an equal in the houses of the titled abroad. He hascome to me like an honorable man, and asked for the privilege ofpaying his addresses. He would have asked your father had he beenin town. He was frank about his affairs, and has just received,in his own name, a very large property, which he proposes to doubleby entering upon business in New York."

"What does his mother think of his intentions toward me?" the younggirl asked, so quietly, that Mrs. Vosburgh was really encouraged.

"He says that he and his mother differ on many points, and willdiffer on this one, and that is all he seemed inclined to say,except to remark significantly that he had attained his majority."

"It was he whom you meant, when you said that some one might comewho would divert my thoughts?"

"I think he would have come, had it not been for the storm."

"Mamma, you have not given him any encouragement? You have notcompromised yourself, or me?"

Mrs. Vosburgh bridled with the beginnings of resentment, and said,"Marian, you should know me too well--"

"There, there, mamma, I was wrong to think of such a thing; I askyour pardon."

"I may have my sensible wishes and preferences," resumed the lady,complacently, "but I have never yet acted the role of the anxious,angling mamma. I cannot help wishing, however, that you wouldconsider favorably an offer like this one, and I certainly couldnot treat Mr. Merwyn otherwise than with courtesy."

"That was right and natural of you, mamma. You have no controversywith Mr. Merwyn; I have. I hate and detest him. Well, since he maycome, I shall dress and be prepared."

"O Marian! you are so quixotic!"

"Dear mamma, you are mistaken. Do not think me inconsiderate ofyou. Some day I will prove I am not by my marriage, if I marry;"and she went to her mother and kissed her tenderly.

Then by a sudden transition she drew herself up with the dark,inscrutable expression that was becoming characteristic since deeperexperiences had entered into her life, and said, firmly:--

"Should I do as you suggest, I should be false to those true friendswho have gone to fight, perhaps to die; false to my father; falseto all that's good and true in my own soul. As to my heart," sheconcluded, with a contemptuous shrug, "that has nothing to do withthe affair. Mamma, you must promise me one thing. I do not wishyou to meet Mr. Merwyn to-night. Please excuse yourself if he asksfor you. I will see him."

"Mark my words, Marian, you will marry a poor man."

"Oh, I have no objection to millionnaires," replied the girl,with a short, unmirthful laugh, "but they must begin their suit ina manner differing from that of two who have favored me;" and shewent to her room.

As Merwyn resembled his deceased parent, so Marian had inheritednot a little of her father's spirit and character. Until withinthe last few months her mother's influence had been predominant,and the young girl had reflected the social conventionalities towhich she was accustomed. No new traits had since been created. Herincreasing maturity had rendered her capable of revealing qualitiesinherent in her nature, should circumstances evoke them. The flower,as it expands, the plant as it grows, is apparently very different,yet the same. The stern, beautiful woman who is arraying herselfbefore her mirror, as a soldier assumes his arms and equipments, isthe same with the thoughtless, pleasure-loving girl whom we firstmet in her drawing-room in June; but months of deep and almosttragic experience have called into activity latent forces receivedfrom her father's soul,--his power of sustained action, of resolutepurpose, of cherishing high ideals, and of white, quiet anger.

Her toilet was scarcely completed when Willard Merwyn was announced.

CHAPTER XV.

SCORN.

IT is essential that we should go back several hours in our story.On the morning of the day that witnessed the departure of Strahanand his company Merwyn's legal adviser had arrived and had beencloseted for several hours with his client. Mr. Bodoin was extremelyconservative. Even in youth he had scarcely known any leaningstoward passion of any kind or what the world regards as folly. Histraining had developed and intensified natural characteristics,and now to preserve in security the property intrusted to hiscare through a stormy, unsettled period had become his controllingmotive. He looked upon the ups and downs of political men and measureswith what seemed to him a superior and philosophical indifference,and he was more than pleased to find in Merwyn, the son of his oldclient, a spirit so in accord with his own ideas.

They had not been very long together on this fateful day before heremarked: "My dear young friend, it is exceedingly gratifying tofind that you are level-headed, like your father. He was a man,Willard, whom you do well to imitate. He secured what he wantedand had his own way, yet there was no nonsense about him. I washis intimate friend as well as legal adviser, and I know, perhaps,more of his life than any one else. Your mother, to-day, is thehandsomest woman of her years I ever saw, but when she was of yourage her beauty was startling, and she had almost as many slavesamong the first young men of the South as there were darkies on theplantation, yet your father quietly bore her away from them all.What is more, he so managed as to retain her respect and affectionto the last, at the same time never yielding an inch in his justrights or dignity, and he ever made Mrs. Merwyn feel that her justrights and dignity were equally sacred. Proud as your mother was,she had the sense to see that his course was the only proper one.Their marriage, my boy, always reminded me of an alliance betweentwo sovereign and alien powers. It was like a court love-matchabroad. Your father, a Northern man, saw the beautiful Southernheiress, and he sued as if he were a potentate from a foreign realm.Well-born and accustomed to wealth all his life, he matched herpride with a pride as great, and made his offer on his feet as ifhe were conferring as much as he should receive. That, in fact,was the only way to win a woman who had been bowed down to allher life. After marriage they lived together like two independentsovereigns, sometimes here, then in the city house, and, whenMrs. Merwyn so desired it, on the Southern plantation, or abroad.He always treated her as if she were a countess or a queen in herown right and paid the utmost deference to her Southern ideas, butnever for a moment permitted her to forget that he was her equal andhad the same right to his Northern views. In regard to financialmatters he looked after her interests as if he were her prime minister,instead of a husband wishing to avail himself of anything. In hisown affairs he consulted me constantly and together we planted hisinvestments on the bed-rock. These reminiscences will enable youto understand the pleasure with which I recognize in you the sametraits. Of course you know that the law gives you great power overyour property. If you were inclined to dissipation, or, what wouldbe little better in these times, were hot-headed and bent on takingpart in this losing fight of the South, I should have no end oftrouble."

"You, also, are satisfied, then, that it will be a losing fight?"Merwyn had remarked.

"Yes, even though the South achieves its independence. I am off atone side of all the turmoil, and my only aim is to keep my trustssafe, no matter who wins. I see things as they are up to date andnot as I might wish them to be if under the influence of passionor prejudice. The South may be recognized by foreign powers andbecome a separate state, although I regard this as very doubtful.In any event the great North and West, with the immense tides ofimmigration pouring in, will so preponderate as to be overshadowing.The Southern empire, of which Mrs. Merwyn dreams, would dwindlerather than grow. Human slavery, right or wrong, is contrary to thespirit of the age. But enough of this political discussion. I onlytouch upon it to influence your action. By the course you arepursuing you not only preserve all your Northern property, butyou will also enable me to retain for your mother and sisters theSouthern plantation. This would be impossible if you were seeking'the bubble, reputation, at the cannon's mouth' on either side.Whatever happens, there must still be law and government. Bothsides will soon get tired of this exhausting struggle, and thenthose who survive and have been wise will reap the advantage. Now,as to your own affairs, the legal formalities are nearly completed.If you return and spend the winter in New York I can put you inthe way of vastly increasing your property, and by such presenceand business activity you will disarm all criticism which yourmother's Southern relations may occasion."

"Mamma will bitterly oppose my return."

"I can only say that what I advise will greatly tend to conserveMrs. Merwyn's interests. If you prefer, we can manage it in thisway: after you have safely established your mother and sistersabroad I can write you a letter saying that your interests requireyour presence."

And so it had been arranged, and the old lawyer sat down to dinnerwith Mrs. Merwyn, paying her the courtly deference which, while itgratified her pride, was accepted as a matter of course--as a partof her husband's legacy. He had soon afterwards taken his departure,leaving his young client in a most complacent and satisfactorymood.

It may thus be seen that Merwyn was not an unnatural product ofthe influences which had until now guided his life and formed hischaracter. The reminiscences of his father's friend had greatlyincreased his sense of magnanimity in his intentions towardsMarian. In the overweening pride of youth he felt as if he werealmost regally born and royally endowed, and that a career wasopening before him in which he should prove his lofty superiorityto those whose heads were turned by the hurly-burly of the hour.Young as he was, he had the sense to be in accord with wise old age,that looked beyond the clouds and storm in which so many would bewrecked. Nay, even more, from those very wrecks he would gatherwealth.

"The time and opportunity for cool heads," he smilingly assuredhimself, "is when men are parting with judgment and reason."

Such was his spirit when he sought the presence of the girl whosesoul was keyed up to almost a passion of self-sacrifice. His mindbelittled the cause for which her idolized father was, at thatmoment, perilling his life, and to which her dearest friends hadconsecrated themselves. He was serene in congratulating himselfthat "little Strahan" had gone, and that the storm would preventthe presence of other interlopers.

Although the room was lighted as usual, he had not waited manymoments before a slight chill fell upon his sanguine mood. The housewas so still, and the rain dripped and the wind sighed so dismallywithout, that a vague presentiment of evil began to assert itself.Heretofore he had found the apartment full of life and mirth, andhe could not help remembering that some who had been its guestsmight now be out in the storm. Would she think of this also?

The parlor was scarcely in its usual pretty order, and no flowersgraced the table. Evidently no one was expected. "All the better,"he assured himself; "and her desolation will probably incline herthe more to listen to one who can bring golden gleams on such adreary night."

A daily paper, with heavy headlines, lay on a chair near him. Theburden of these lines was DEFEAT, CARNAGE, DEATH.

They increased the slight chill that was growing upon him, and madehim feel that possibly the story of his birth and greatness whichhe had hoped to tell might be swallowed up by this other storywhich fascinated him with its horror.

A slight rustle caused him to look up, and Marian stood before him.Throwing aside the paper as if it were an evil spell, he rose,would have offered his hand had there been encouragement, but thegirl merely bowed and seated herself as she said: "Good-evening,Mr. Merwyn. You are brave to venture out in such a storm."

Was there irony in the slight accent on the word "brave"? Howsingularly severe was her costume, also!--simple black, without anornament. Yet he admitted that he had never seen her in so effectivea dress, revealing, as it did, the ivory whiteness of her arms andneck.

"There is only one reason why I should not come this evening,--youmay have hoped to escape all callers."

"It matters little what one hopes in these times," she said, "forevents are taking place which set aside all hopes and expectations."

In her bitter mood she was impatient to have the interview over, sothat she accomplished her purpose. Therefore she proposed, contraryto her custom with him, to employ the national tragedy, to whichhe was so indifferent, as one of her keenest weapons.

"It is quite natural that you should feel so, Miss Vosburgh, inregard to such hopes as you have thus far entertained--"

"Since they are the only hopes I know anything about, Mr. Merwyn,I am not indifferent to them. I suppose you were at the depot tosee your friend, Mr. Strahan, depart?" and the question was askedwith a steady, searching scrutiny that was a little embarrassing.

Indeed, her whole aspect produced a perplexed, wondering admiration, forshe seemed breathing marble in her cold self-possession. He felt,however, that the explanation which he must give of his absencewhen so many were evincing patriotic good-will would enable him toimpress her with the fact that he had superior interests at stakein which she might have a share.

Therefore he said, gravely, as if the reason were ample: "I shouldhave been at the depot, of course, had not my legal adviser comeup from town to-day and occupied me with very important business.Mr. Bodoin's time is valuable to him, and he presented, for myconsideration, questions of vital interest. I have reached thatage now when I must not only act for myself, but I also have verydelicate duties to perform towards my mother and sisters."

"Mr. Strahan had a sad duty to perform towards his mother andsisters,--he said good-by to them."

"A duty which I shall soon have to perform, also," Merwyn said.

She looked at him inquiringly. Had he at last found his manhood,and did he intend to assert it? Had he abandoned his calculatingpolicy, and was he cherishing some loyal purpose? If this weretrue and she had any part in his decision, it would be a triumphindeed; and, while she felt that she could never respond to anysuch proposition as he had made through her mother, she could forgetthe past and give him her hand in friendly encouragement towardssuch a career as Lane and Strahan had chosen. She felt that it wouldbe well not to be over-hasty in showing resentment, but if possibleto let him reveal his plans and character fully. She listenedquietly, therefore, without show of approval or disapproval, as hebegan in reply to her questioning glance.

"I am going to be frank with you this evening, Miss Vosburgh. Thetime has come when I should be so. Has not Mrs. Vosburgh told yousomething of the nature of my interview with her?"

The young girl merely bowed.

"Then you know how sincere and earnest I am in what--in what Ishall have to say."

To his surprise he felt a nervous trepidation that he would nothave imagined possible in making his magnanimous offer. He foundthis humble American girl more difficult to approach than any otherwoman he had ever met.

"Miss Vosburgh," he continued, hesitatingly, "when I first enteredthis room I did not understand your true worth and superiority,but a sense of these has been growing on me from that hour to this.Perhaps I was not as sincere as I--I--should have been, and youwere too clever not to know it. Will you listen to me patiently?"

Again she bowed, and lower this time to conceal a slight smile oftriumph.

Encouraged, he proceeded: "Now that I have learned to know you well,I wish you to know me better,--to know all about me. My father wasa Northern man with strong Northern traits; my mother, a Southernwoman with equally strong Southern traits. I have been educatedchiefly abroad. Is it strange, then, that I cannot feel exactly asyou do, or as some of your friends do?"

"As we once agreed, Mr. Merwyn, each must choose his own coursefor life."

"I am glad you have reminded me of that, for I am choosing for lifeand not for the next ten months or ten years. As I said, then, allthis present hurly-burly will soon pass away." Her face darkened,but in his embarrassment and preoccupation he did not perceive it."I have inherited a very large property, and my mother's affairsare such that I must act wisely, if not always as she would wish."

"May I ask what Mrs. Merwyn would prefer?"

"I am prepared to be perfectly frank about myself," he replied,hesitatingly, "but--"

"Pardon me. It is immaterial."

"I have a perfect right to judge and act for myself," resumedMerwyn, with some emphasis.

"Thank you. I should remember that."

The words were spoken in a low tone and almost as if in soliloquy,and her face seemed to grow colder and more impassive if possible.

With something approaching dismay Merwyn had observed that theannouncement of his large fortune had had no softening influence onthe girl's manner, and he thought, "Truly, this is the most drearyand business-like wooing that I ever imagined!"

But he had gone too far to recede, and his embarrassment wasbeginning to pass into something like indignation that he and allhe could offer were so little appreciated.

Restraining this feeling, he went on, gravely and gently: "You onceintimated that I was young, Miss Vosburgh, yet the circumstancesand responsibilities of my lot have led me to think more, perhaps,than others of my age, and to look beyond the present hour. I regardthe property left me by my father as a trust, and I have learnedto-day that I can greatly increase and probably double it. It ismy intention, after taking my mother and sisters abroad, to returnto New York and to enter cautiously into business under the guidanceof my legal adviser, who is a man of great sagacity. Now, as youknow, I have said from the first that it is natural for you tofeel deeply in regard to the events of the day; but I look beyondall this turmoil, distraction, and passion, which will be astemporary as it is violent. I am thinking for you as truly as formyself. Pardon me for saying it; I am sure I am in a better conditionof mind to think for you than you are to judge for yourself.I can give you the highest social position, and make your futurea certainty. From causes I can well understand the passion of thehour has been swaying you--"

She rose, and by an emphatic gesture stopped him, and there was afire in the blue eyes that had been so cold before. She appearedto have grown inches as she stood before him and said, in tonesof concentrated scorn: "You are indeed young, yet you speak thecalculating words of one so old as to have lost every impulse ofyouth. Do you know where my father is at this moment?"

"No," he faltered.

"He is taking part, at the risk of his life, in this temporaryhurly-burly, as you caricature it. It is he who is swaying me, andthe memory of the brave men whom you have met here and to whom youfancied yourself superior. Did not that honored father exist, orthose brave friends, I feel within my soul that I have womanhoodenough to recognize and feel my country's need in this supreme hourof her peril. You thoughtful beyond your years?--you think for me?What did you think of me the first evening you spent here? What wereyour thoughts as you came again and again? To what am I indebtedfor this honor, but the fact that you could only beguile a summer'sennui by a passing flirtation which would leave me you little caredwhere, after you had joined your aristocratic friends abroad? Nowyour plans have changed, and, after much deliberation, you havecome to lift me to the highest position! Never dream that I candescend to your position!"

He was fairly trembling with anger and mortification, and she wasabout to leave the apartment.

"Stay!" he said, passing his hand across his brow as if to brushaway confusion of mind; "I have not given you reason for suchcontempt, and it is most unreasonable."

"Why is it unreasonable?" she asked, her scornful self-controlpassing into something like passion. "I will speak no more of theinsult of your earlier motives towards me, now that you think youcan afford to marry me. In your young egotism you may think a girlforgets and forgives such a thing easily if bribed by a fortune. Iwill let all that be as if it were not, and meet you on the groundof what is, at this present hour. I despise you because you haveno more mind or manhood--take it as you will--than to think thatthis struggle for national life and liberty is a mere passing fracasof politicians. Do you think I will tamely permit you to call mynoble father little better than a fool? He has explained to me whatthis war means--he, of twice your age, and with a mind as largeas his manhood and courage. You have assumed to be his superior,also, as well as that of Mr. Lane and Mr. Strahan, who are aboutto peril life in the 'hurly-burly.' What are your paltry thousandsto me? Should I ever love, I will love a MAN; and had I your sexand half your inches, I should this hour be in Virginia, instead ofdefending those I love and honor against your implied aspersions.Had you your mother's sentiments I should at least respect you,although she has no right to be here enjoying the protection of agovernment that she would destroy."

He was as pale as she had become flushed, and again he passed hishand over his brow confusedly and almost helplessly. "It is alllike a horrid dream," he muttered.

"Mr. Merwyn, you have brought this on yourself," she said, morecalmly. "You have sought to wrong me in my own home. Your words andmanner have ever been an insult to the cause for which my fathermay die--O God!" she exclaimed, with a cry of agony--"for whichhe may now be dead! Go, go," she added, with a strong repellentgesture. "We have nothing in common: you measure everything withthe inch-rule of self."

As if pierced to the very soul he sprung forward and seized her handwith almost crushing force, as he cried: "No, I measure everythinghereafter by the breadth of your woman's soul. You shall not castme off in contempt. If you do you are not a woman,--you are afanatic, worse than my mother;" and he rushed from the house likeone distraught.

Panting, trembling, frightened by a volcanic outburst such as shehad never dreamed of, Marian sunk on a lounge, sobbing like a child.

CHAPTER XVI.

AWAKENED AT LAST.

IT may well be imagined that Mrs. Vosburgh was not far distantduring the momentous interview described in the last chapter, and,as Merwyn rushed from the house as if pursued by the furies, sheappeared at once on the scene, full of curiosity and dismay.

Exclamations, questionings, elicited little from Marian. The strainof the long, eventful day had been too great, and the young girl,who might have been taken as a type of incensed womanhood a fewmoments before, now had scarcely better resources than such remediesas Mrs. Vosburgh's matronly experience knew how to apply. Few remainlong on mountain-tops, physical or metaphorical, and deep valleyslie all around them. Little else could be done for the poor girlthan to bring the oblivion of sleep, and let kindly Nature nurseher child back to a more healthful condition of body and mind.

But it would be long before Willard Merwyn would be amenable to thegentle offices of nature. Simpson, the footman, flirting desperatelywith the pretty waitress in the kitchen below, heard his master'sswift, heavy step on the veranda, and hastened out only in time toclamber into his seat as Merwyn drove furiously away in the rainand darkness. Every moment the trembling lackey expected they wouldall go to-wreck and ruin, but the sagacious animals were giventheir heads, and speedily made their way home.

The man took the reeking steeds to the stable, and Merwyn disappeared.He did not enter the house, for he felt that he would stifle there,and the thought of meeting his mother was intolerable. Therefore,he stole away to a secluded avenue, and strode back and forthunder the dripping trees, oblivious, in his fierce perturbation,of outward discomfort.

Mrs. Merwyn waited in vain for him to enter, then questioned theattendant.

"Faix, mum, I know nothin' at all. Mr. Willard druv home loike onepossessed, and got out at the door, and that's the last oi've seenuv 'im."

The lady received the significant tidings with mingled anxiety andsatisfaction. Two things were evident. He had become more interestedin Miss Vosburgh than he had admitted, and she, by strange goodfortune, had refused him.

"It was a piece of folly that had to come in some form, I suppose,"she soliloquized, "although I did not think Willard anything likeso sure to perpetrate it as most young men. Well, the girl hassaved me not a little trouble, for, of course, I should have beencompelled to break the thing up;" and she sat down to watch andwait. She waited so long that anxiety decidedly got the better ofher satisfaction.

Meanwhile the object of her thoughts was passing through an experienceof which he had never dreamed. In one brief hour his complacency,pride, and philosophy of life had been torn to tatters. He sawhimself as Marian saw him, and he groaned aloud in his loathing andhumiliation. He looked back upon his superior airs as ridiculous,and now felt that he would rather be a private in Strahan's companythan the scorned and rejected wretch that he was. The passionatenature inherited from his mother was stirred to its depths. Eventhe traits which he believed to be derived from his father, andwhich the calculating lawyer had commended, had secured the younggirl's most withering contempt; and he saw how she contrasted himwith her father and Mr. Lane,--yes, even with little Strahan. Inher bitter words he heard the verdict of the young men with whomhe had associated, and of the community. Throughout the summer hehad dwelt apart, wrapped in his own self-sufficiency and fanciedsuperiority. His views had been of gradual growth, and he had cometo regard them as infallible, especially when stamped with theapproval of his father's old friend; but the scathing words, yetringing in his ears, showed him that brave, conscientious manhoodwas infinitely more than his wealth and birth. As if by a revelationfrom heaven he saw that he had been measuring everything with thelittle rule of self, and in consequence he had become so mean andsmall that a generous-hearted girl had shrunk from him in loathing.

Then in bitter anger and resentment he remembered how he wastrammelled by his oath to his mother. It seemed to him that hislife was blighted by this pledge and a false education. There wasno path to her side who would love and honor only a MAN.

At last the mere physical manifestations of passion and excitementbegan to pass away, and he felt that he was acting almost like oneinsane as he entered the house.

"Willard, be rational. You are wet through. You will catch yourdeath in these clothes."

"Nothing would suit me better, as I feel now;" and he broke away.

He was so haggard when he came down late the next morning that hismother could not have believed such a change possible in so shorta time. "It is going to be more serious than I thought," was hermental comment as she poured him out a cup of coffee.

It was indeed; for after drinking the coffee in silence, he lookedfrowningly out of the window for a time; then said abruptly to thewaiter, "Leave the room."

The tone was so stern that the man stole out with a scared look.

"Willard," began Mrs. Merwyn, with great dignity, "you are actingin a manner unbecoming your birth and breeding."

Turning from the window, he fixed his eyes on his mother with alook that made her shiver.

At last he asked, in a low, stern voice, "Why did you bind me withthat oath?"

"Because I foresaw some unutterable folly such as you are nowmanifesting."

"No," he said, in the same cold, hard tone. "It was becauseyour cursed Confederacy was more to you than my freedom, than mymanhood,--more to you than I am myself."

"O Willard! What ravings!"

"Was my father insane when he quietly insisted on his rights,yielding you yours? What right had you to cripple my life?"

"I took the only effective means to prevent you from doing justthat for yourself."

"How have you succeeded?"

"I have prevented you, as a man of honor, from doing, under a gustof passion, what would spoil all my plans and hopes."

"I am not a man. You have done your best to prevent me from beingone. You have bound me with a chain, and made me like one of theslaves on your plantation. Your plans and hopes? Have I no rightto plans and hopes?"

"You know my first thought has been of you and for you."

"No, I do not know this. I now remember that, when you bound me,a thoughtless, selfish, indolent boy, you said that you would havetorn your heart out rather than marry my father had you foreseenwhat was coming. This miserable egotist, Jeff Davis, and his schemeof empire, cost what it may, are more to you than husband or child.A mother would have said: 'You have reached manhood and have therights of a man. I will advise you and seek to guide you. You knowmy feelings and views, and in their behalf I will even entreatyou; but you have reached that age when the law makes you free,and holds you accountable to your own conscience.' Of what valueis my life if it is not mine? I should have the right to make myown life, like others."

"You have the right to make it, but not to mar it."

"In other words, your prejudices, your fanaticism, are to take theplace of my conscience and reason. You expect me to carry a sham ofmanhood out into the world. I wish you to release me from my oath."

"Never," cried Mrs. Merwyn, with a passion now equal to his own."You have fallen into the hands of a Delilah, and she has shornyou of your manhood. Infatuated with a nameless Northern girl, youwould blight your life and mine. When you come to your senses youwill thank me on your knees that I interposed an oath that cannotbe broken between you and suicidal folly;" and she was about toleave the room.

"Stop," he said, huskily. "When I bound myself I did so withoutrealizing what I did. I was but a boy, knowing not the future. Idid it out of mere good-will to you, little dreaming of the fettersyou were forging. Since you will not release me and treat me as aman I shall keep the oath. I swore never to put on the uniform ofa Union soldier, or to step on Southern soil with a hostile purpose,but you have taught me to detest your Confederacy with implacablehate; and I shall use my means, my influence, all that I am, toaid others to destroy it."

"What! are you not going back to England with us?"

"Yes."

"Before you have been there a week this insane mood will pass away."

"Did my father's moods pass away?"

"Your father--" began the lady, impetuously, and then hesitated.

"My father always yielded you your just rights and maintained hisown. I shall imitate his example as far as I now may. The oath isa thing that stands by itself. It will probably spoil my life, butI cannot release myself from it."

"You leave me only one course, Willard,--to bear with you as if youwere a passionate child. You never need hope for my consent to analliance with the under-bred creature who has been the cause ofthis folly."

"Thank you. You now give me your complete idea of my manhood. Irequest that these subjects be dismissed finally between us. I makeanother pledge,--I shall be silent whenever you broach them;" andwith a bow he left the apartment.

Half an hour later he was climbing the nearest mountain, resolvedon a few hours of solitude. From a lofty height he could seethe little Vosburgh cottage, and, by the aid of a powerful glass,observed that the pony phaeton did not go out as usual, althoughthe day was warm and beautiful after the storm.

The mists of passion were passing from his mind, and in strongreaction from his violent excitement he sunk, at first, into deepdepression. So morbid was he that he cried aloud: "O my father!Would to God that you had lived! Where are you that you can giveno counsel, no help?"

But he was too young to give way to utter despondency, and at lasthis mind rallied around the words he had spoken to Marian. "I shall,hereafter, measure everything by the breadth of your woman's soul."

As he reviewed the events of the summer in the light of recentexperience, he saw how strong, unique, and noble her character was.Faults she might have in plenty, but she was above meannesses andmercenary calculation. The men who had sought her society had beenincited to manly action, and beneath all the light talk and badinageearnest and heroic purposes had been formed; he meanwhile, poorfool! had been too blinded by conceited arrogance to understandwhat was taking place. He had so misunderstood her as to imaginethat after she had spent a summer in giving heroic impulses shewould be ready to form an alliance that would stultify all heraction, and lose her the esteem of men who were proving their regardin the most costly way. He wondered at himself, but thought:--

"I had heard so much about financial marriages abroad that I hadgained the impression that no girl in these days would slight anoffer like mine. Even her own mother was ready enough to meet myviews. I wonder if she will ever forgive me, ever receive me againas a guest, so that I can make a different impression. I fear shewill always think me a coward, hampered as I am by a restraintthat I cannot break. Well, my only chance is to take up life fromher point of view, and to do the best I can. There is something inmy nature which forbids my ever yielding or giving up. So far asit is now possible I shall keep my word to her, and if she has awoman's heart she may, in time, so far relent as to give me a placeamong her friends. This is now my ambition, for, if I achieve this,I shall know I am winning such manhood as I can attain."

When Merwyn appeared at dinner he was as quiet and courteous asif nothing had happened; but his mother was compelled to note thatthe boyishness had departed out of his face, and in its stronglines she recognized his growing resemblance to his father.

Two weeks later he accompanied his mother and sisters to England.Before his departure he learned that Marian had been seriously ill,but was convalescent, and that her father had returned.

Meantime and during the voyage, with the differences natural tothe relation of mother and son, his manner was so like that of hisfather towards her that she was continually reminded of the past,and was almost led to fear that she had made a grave error in theact she had deemed so essential. But her pride and her hopes forthe future prevented all concession.

"When he is once more in society abroad this freak will pass away,"she thought, "and some English beauty will console him."

But after they were well established in a pretty villa nearcongenial acquaintances, Merwyn said one morning, "I shall returnto New York next week."

"Willard! how can you think of such a thing? I was planning tospend the latter part of the winter in Rome."

"That you may easily do with your knowledge of the city and yourwide circle of friends."

"But we need you. We want you to be with us, and I think it mostunnatural in you to leave us alone."

"I have taken no oath to dawdle around Europe indefinitely. Ipropose to return to New York and go into business."

"You have enough and more than enough already."

"I certainly have had enough of idleness."

"But I protest against it. I cannot consent."

"Mamma," he said, in the tone she so well remembered, "is not mylife even partially my own? What is your idea of a man whom bothlaw and custom make his own master? Even as a woman you chose foryourself at the proper age. What strange infatuation do you cherishthat you can imagine that a son of Willard Merwyn has no life ofhis own to live? It is now just as impossible for me to idle awaymy best years in a foreign land as it would be for me to returnto my cradle. I shall look after your interests and comfort to thebest of my ability, and, if you decide to return to New York, youshall be received with every courtesy."

"I shall never return to New York. I would much prefer to go to myplantation and share the fortunes of my own people."

"I supposed you would feel in that way, and I will do all inmy power to further your wishes, whatever they may be. My wishes,in personal matters, are now equally entitled to respect. I shallcarry them out;" and with a bow that precluded all further remonstrancehe left the room.

A day or two later she asked, abruptly, "Will you use your meansand influence against the South?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Merwyn's face became rigid, but nothing more was said. Whenhe bade her good-by there was an evident struggle in her heart,but she repressed all manifestations of feeling, and mother andson parted.

CHAPTER XVII.

COMING TO THE POINT.

WHEN the tide has long been rising the time comes for it to recede.From the moment of Marian's awakening to a desire for a betterwomanhood, she had been under a certain degree of mental excitementand exaltation. This condition had culminated with the eventsthat wrought up the loyal North into suspense, anguish, and stern,relentless purpose.